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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519436">Split-Second Decisions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipK/pseuds/PipK'>PipK</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hitman (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adding rape/non-con warning just to be sure, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:41:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipK/pseuds/PipK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of decisions that set off a chain of disasters.</p><p>---<br/>Chapter 3: He had thought that pain was his only enemy, and all he had to do was clench his jaw and endure. He couldn’t be more wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agent 47 (Hitman)/Original Male Character(s), Agent 47/Diana Burnwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first attempt at writing fan-fiction. Comments and criticism are very welcomed!</p><p>English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, feel free to point them out. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Diana is almost certain that Soders is deliberately messing with them. </p><p>It’s been seven months since she has chosen 47 (it had taken her some time to “make it a name” and now she’s unable to look at the number 47 as anything but a name) as her agent at the International Contract Agency, and its Senior Supervisor Erich Soders is still holding a grudge for what they pulled during 47’s recruitment training. Diana sometimes wonders whether the man is ever going to put his petty grievances aside before he runs ICA into the ground. But as their current situation suggests, hell would have frozen over before Soders stops hindering Diana and 47’s career at every step. </p><p>During their seven-month-long partnership, Soders has given them contracts that are either mind-numbingly tedious or extremely dangerous. An ICA contract must be accepted by both the handler and the agent before mission activation. 47 had taken them on without a second thought, seemingly oblivious (or uncaring) to Soders’ intentions of driving him away from the ICA or just straight up getting him killed. </p><p>Diana had considered turning them down but never acted on it. At first, because she didn’t want any flaw on her spotless resume but would not allow herself to run away from a challenge (in the front of Soders’ smug face no less). But as she gradually got to know 47 better and has grown quite fond of him (in a strictly professional way), despite his extraordinary skills almost guaranteeing mission success, she still hesitates to take on these risky contracts because those skills seem to favor mission success over his own safety one too many times. </p><p>Granted, being wounded during fieldwork is inevitable in an agent’s (sometimes unfortunately short) career. Some agents even take pride in scars as if they signify experience instead of a lack of it. A stupid assumption, of course, as the infamous agent Smith is the (surprisingly still) living proof of it. The reckless agent has botched countless low-level missions and got himself captured enough times that at least a dozen operating agents have rescued him. Why on earth the ICA hasn’t fired his ass, is anyone’s guess.</p><p>47 himself has pulled Smith out of hell’s gate three times already. And the second time he was grazed by a bullet while covering a stumbling Smith, leaving a thin scar just above his right hip. Needless to say, if it’s up to Diana, she wouldn’t want anything to do with Smith after that. (Even though she enjoys staring at the scar while 47 slips into new disguises - those fleeting moments when his skin is briefly exposed, if the security camera allows the angle. He has another scar across his shoulder blades, slash of a knife, Diana suspects.) </p><p>And now, lo and behold, they are stuck with him yet again. Things didn’t start off this awful initially, albeit still quite unpleasant. </p><p>Soders had offered them a new contract which made Diana want to drop the professionalism and reach over his designer desk and choke him until he’s blue in the face. It was an escort mission, the kind where you have to protect the client at all cost, which means taking a bullet when necessary, the kind you’d give to someone expendable. And yet Soders had decided to give 47 “the honor to guarantee the safety of his old friend”. </p><p>Apparently, the client threatened by assassination is a long-time associate of Soders. A billionaire broker named Robert Garner, who is charged with human trafficking and put on house arrest, now awaiting trial in a secretive location provided by the ICA. On the day of trial, 47 was to serve as Garner’s bodyguard and make sure he arrives at the courtroom alive. </p><p>Strange, Diana thought at first, a criminal who is willing to risks dying to face justice. After some digging behind Soders’ back (confirming a contract’s legitimacy in order to ensure your agent’s safety is no rule-breaking in Diana’s book), it turned out that Garner had arranged a “witness” to show up in court who can dismiss the allegations, making him a free man after. </p><p>A contract that helps a despicable criminal walk free. Diana isn’t surprised, to be honest. The ICA board of directors are practical people after all, only money has authority here. To say the ICA is neutral is just a way of keeping the agency out of messy waters. Morality has no play in such a bloody business. Still, Diana longs for a change in the system, to one day have enough power to enforce justice (for her parents and other victims like them), which is why she puts effort into climbing the corporate ladder, which is why she convinced herself to take on Soders’ offer in the end –as a final peace offering after which Soders might end their streak of terrible contracts.</p><p>When Diana briefed 47 on the mission, he-as Diana had expected-accepted it without hesitation. Diana can’t help but find his (almost disturbing) level of dedication to his work a bit alarming. He still suffers from amnesia and while initial psychological evaluation suggests mild symptoms of PTSD, the eagerness to throw himself to the frontline as frequently as he does can be a sign of his condition worsening. So far, however, his track record has remained perfect.</p><p>It started the same way as every other mission: preparing discreetly and staying alert. Everything went smoothly, until one day before the mission when Soders threw a wrench into their plan, a wrench named Carlton Smith, to be exact. A wealthy client who lost their daughter to Garner’s human traffickers had offered a large sum of money to eliminate Garner’s witness, under the condition that Garner will not be informed of the loss of his get-out-of-jail-free card, thus attending the trial and facing punishment. </p><p>Soders, who apparently values cold hard cash over friendship (Diana doubts he did it out of sympathy for the victims, the bastard), approved the change to the contract right away. The elimination of the witness, who is under Garner’s heavy security, is given to non-other than agent Smith, instead of his now obviously more capable partner. </p><p>Aside from providing protection for Garner, 47 now has to also prevent Garner from knowing about his witness’s untimely death before being brought to trial. A minor complication, of course, except that Smith’s failure would mean the failure of the entire mission, which is very likely. After failing to convince Smith’s handler to let her take over, Diana begrudgingly accepted the hand she was dealt. </p><p>“We will indulge Soders one last time, 47.” Diana signed into her phone, sitting in her suite in Amsterdam. “Any more nonsense after this, there will be serious retaliation.”</p><p>“I’m fairly certain that conspiring against the head of the ICA is a breach of regulation.” In a hotel in Massachusetts, 47 cleans his Silverballers while listening to the traffic outside. </p><p>“<i>A</i> head of the ICA.” 47 is not as upset as she is, if at all. To him, a contract is a contract, and someone’s got to do it. If the commands fall on his shoulder, unfairly or not, he will follow them. It’s his job after all. Diana admires his professionalism, except when it frustrates her like right now. “And I’m sure changing the contract 17 hours before mission is a breach of regulation. Assigning mission to unfit agent, another one…”</p><p>“I’m sure Smith will do fine.” </p><p>“Heh, I didn’t know you have that much faith in him, 47. Or is that sarcasm? I honestly can’t tell from your tone.” </p><p>“He’ll get his break-through. You’ll see.”</p><p>“Right, and Soders will finally grow up.” </p><p>They both enjoy their occasional banter between missions, it’s a nice break from the intensity at work. While being mostly mute during missions, 47 is surprisingly talkative (as in, he would answer Diana’s questions instead of making a low humming sound) when it comes to local culture and small animals. Diana finds it rather endearing, listening to him describe the architecture and fashion of an exotic location.</p><p>“I need to catch some sleep.” 47 lays his Silverballers neatly in his ICA suitcase.</p><p>“Of course, alertness is essential in escort missions.” Pulled from her wandering thoughts, Diana decides that she should get some shut-eye as well. “Have a good night, 47.”</p><p>“You too-” A slight pause, “I’ll report to duty at 0700 hrs.”</p><p>“Excellent.” 47 disconnects the line. </p><p>It’s been seven months. Diana wonders absent-mindedly when 47 will start referring to her by her first name.</p><p>---</p><p>Like clockwork, 47 wakes up at six in the morning. </p><p>Fifteen minutes before departure, Diana informs him that Garner’s lawyer, Mr. Davidson, would pick him up and accompany him to Garner’s safehouse. “Guess I’ll call off the transport,” Diana groaned, “I wonder what other split-second decisions await us. So disorganized…”</p><p>“Be prepared for the unexpected.” 47 adjusts his red tie in front of a mirror, “Part of the job.” </p><p>Davidson arrives five minutes later. When they meet in front of the hotel, he eyed 47 up and down, not masking his condescension in the slightest. “How old are you?”</p><p>“26.” It is the official age of his alias, Tobias Rieper. It is an estimation of his age, of course, amnesia and all.</p><p>“And you’re the most qualified agent to guarantee my client safety? Out of all the agents in ICA?”</p><p>“You get what you pay for.” 47 decides there’s no need in showing mutual respect. Might as well have some fun.</p><p>Davidson scoffs, “Yeah, I bet.” 47 caught a devious twinkle in his eyes. As if he knows something that 47 doesn’t.</p><p>47 categorizes Davidson in his mind as a potential threat. </p><p>During the two-hour drive, they sit together in the back of his car, where 47 is berated with questions regarding the-according to Davidson-deceitful reputation of the ICA. The man clearly has no faith in 47’s capabilities and, as 47 could detect from his accusing tone, no trust in 47’s intentions. As far as Davidson’s concerned, 47 could be the very assassin whom he’s trying to keep Garner away from. “I’ll be watching you.” Silence ensues inside the car.</p><p>“I did some background check on the lawyer, 47.” Diana spoke in his earpiece, “He’s involved in the arrangement of the witness. The two have stayed in close contact since then.” <i>Looks like Garner is not the only one whose safety he’s worried about.</i> 47 thinks. He needs to get him out of the picture, considering that he will probably be informed of the witness’s death first, when the time comes.</p><p>They arrive at a safehouse somewhere on the outskirts of the city, isolated and surrounded by pine trees. ICA safehouses aren’t usually this big, not for agents anyway. The design is quite old, one out of the last century. Despite the way he dresses, modern and simplistic, 47 finds the esthetics of the past more fascinating for their history, something he himself lacks.</p><p>He spots his target, Robert Garner, sitting on the front porch smoking a cigar, in his early 50s, fit, red and black Hawaiian shirt, white dress pants, hair sleeked back. Beside him stands an imposing man in a black suit, presumably his current bodyguard.</p><p>As they make their way to the front porch, 47 felt Garner’s intense gaze on him. The man most likely shares his lawyer’s point of view on the ICA. His distrust of him might become troublesome if he decides to keep a distance from 47.</p><p>“Mr. Garner.” Davidson greets politely, with a hint of urgency in his voice. Garner’s eyes are still fixed on 47. 47 stares right back. <i>I’ve got nothing to hide.</i></p><p>“Mr. Davidson.” Finally, he breaks eye contact and turns towards the lawyer. “What a…pleasant surprise.” His tone, however, is one of annoyance. “Now, tell me. What in the goddamned hell are you doing in front of my face and not behind your desk preparing my goddamned case?” Garner has a southern drawl and it seems to get more noticeable when he’s swearing.</p><p>“Sir, I-I’m worried about your safety.” Davidson opens his mouth again but Garner cuts him off.</p><p>“Uh-huh. Sure.” He deadpans, “And what the fuck do you think I’m paying for?” He points towards 47. Realizing that he might have been a bit rude, he turns it into a handshake. “Sorry. Where are my manners? You must be Tobias…R-?”</p><p>“Rieper, sir. I’m your new bodyguard.” They shake hands, the older man slightly taller.</p><p>Garner chuckles at the pun, “To-buy-his-reaper. ICA has truly outdone themselves with the aliases.” He holds onto 47’s hand a few seconds too long. “Well, Tobias. I’m counting on you today. Ol’ Hank here is losing his touch.” The bodyguard-Hank-pulls a face but remains silent.</p><p>“I bet he is, letting you out of the house like this. There could be snipers out there right now.” </p><p>“Y’know, if you weren’t my lawyer, I’d feed you to dogs for talking to me like that.” There is no menace in his voice, he stated it not as a threat, but as a simple fact. “I’ve been smoking on this god-forsaken porch for months and I’m still kicking.”</p><p>47 is relieved that Garner isn’t hostile towards him, quite the opposite as it turns out. Maybe he misinterpreted his staring. Garner’s eyes are on him again, as if expecting a response. <i>Might as well play along.</i></p><p>“Worry not. Mr. Davidson. ICA safehouses are carefully chosen to elude prying eyes. There are also no optimal sniping spots in the vicinity. No high points and too many trees.” It’s not <i>entirely</i> sniper-proof, but it’d take some exceptional skills.</p><p>“HA! You see?” Garner clasps his hand on the back of 47’s head and gives a light shake, like a proud father. 47 fights the urge to bat it away. Physical contact only ever ends in violence in his line of work. “Why don’t you stick to your lawbooks and leave it to the professional?” Davidson presses his lips into a thin line, visibly frustrated.</p><p>“Now, where’s my hospitality. Come on in.” As Garner guides 47 towards the front door, his hand remains on the back of his neck, his thumb lightly massaging a patch of skin. 47 is perplexed by the intimate gesture but doesn’t let it show.</p><p>Behind security camera screens, Diana puts on a slight frown. She’s a bit taken aback by Garner’s overly friendly nature towards his new bodyguard. The way 47 holds himself is proven to be quite intimidating to most people, with his icy gaze and broad shoulders. Southern hospitality, perhaps. A notification goes off on her monitor.</p><p>“Smith’s mission has just been activated, 47. Let’s hope luck is on his side.” 47 relaxes a bit at Diana’s voice, refocusing his attention from the clammy hand that has now slid to the small of his back to the task at hand. “I have visual on all security cameras.”</p><p>As they enter the living room, 47 hears footsteps from behind, high heels, Garner’s wife. 47 turns towards her as she passes by, and catches something between irritation and disgust in her eyes as she stares a whole into her husband’s hand on his back. She stops in front of them, cigarette in hand, blonde, conventionally attractive and pissed off.</p><p>“So.” The volume of her voice is unnecessarily high. She looks at 47 then Garner. “This another one of your whores?”</p><p>47’s head goes blank for a second, then slightly panics at the implication. His brain is hard-wired to take on the identity people assume him to have as quickly as possible, in order to avoid suspicion, no matter how ridiculous. He briefly considers the possibility of the escort mission having an underlying meaning, then discards it since the briefing never implied such a request. <i>A misunderstanding, perhaps. </i></p><p>All the alarms in Diana’s head, however, start going off. </p><p>Garner barks out a laugh. “Ah Sharon. Such a lovely woman. Ain’t you, sweetheart?” He’s not at all embarrassed by being accused of having extramarital affairs with multiple men. The lawyer and bodyguard aren’t acting surprised either. It’s a revelation only for 47. Garner’s file has shown him to be promiscuous, but not gay.</p><p><i>That explains the handsiness.</i> Garner is sexually attracted to him. 47 doesn’t exactly know how to respond to this new found information, but stores it away as possible opportunity to be exploited later.</p><p>Sharon scoffs, “Yeah and I can’t wait till they lock you up so I don’t have to listen to you fuck a different guy every goddamned week.”</p><p>“Right-right. And go live on the streets? Cheer up, Sharon. You’ve tolerated it so far.” His leans in closer to 47, so close that he feels his hot breath on his ear. He whispers but loud enough that Sharon hears it. “What’s one more day?” </p><p>The aggressive sexual advances make 47’s stomach turn. It must have shown on his face as Garner patted him on the chest. “Relax, kiddo. You’ll do fine.” What is that supposed to mean? </p><p>“Augh god, I hope you rot in jail you piece of shit.” Sharon storms off into the back yard, lighting up another cigarette. The bodyguard trails after her.</p><p>Davidson has finally decided to step in and discuss some details on the case with Garner, much to 47’s relief. (He didn’t think he could stand the man’s touch one more second.) Diana has updated him on Smith’s progress-he hasn’t blown his cover yet, fortunately. As the two men talk on the living room sofa, 47 stands behind them, listening in on the conversation and contemplating his next move. All things considered, 47 sees the lawyer as the biggest threat so far. </p><p>Apart from the fact that the witness has him on speed dial, Davidson has been trying to persuade Garner that the ICA is not to be trusted. Garner waves it off (or pretends to) as the lawyer’s usual paranoia. Apparently, the man and Soders go way back, and Garner has unwavering belief in Soders’ loyalty. Diana scoffed at this. “The irony of it all.” She hasn’t mentioned Garner’s excessive flirting but 47 can hear the concern in her voice. <i>It’s best not to interfere,</i> Diana thought, <i>it’s 47’s decision on how to utilize this turn of events.</i> He’s running the risks, after all. Still, she trusts in his abilities. (She wonders if Soders had known about Garner’s intentions and deliberately withheld the information. The mere thought of it makes her blood boil.)</p><p>The best approach would be to isolate Garner and silence Davidson without raising suspicion. Waiting till they separate and choke the lawyer out is unlikely to work, since Davidson would probably follow Garner everywhere, mindful of 47’s every move. He’ll need to convince Garner to leave the lawyer’s side on his own terms. </p><p>There is an obvious solution to this, but 47 is unsure if he wants to go there. He knows the persuasive power of seduction. People tend to make stupid decisions when they are horny, and he’s heard a handful of stories where female agents used seduction to achieve their goal. However, as effective as this tactic is, his hesitation stems from a lack of control. After all, his goal isn’t elimination. He can’t just smother the target with a pillow when things get out of hand.</p><p>Diana informs 47 that Smith has infiltrated the witness’s safehouse. “Smith is staying put for now. He will wait for an opportune moment to eliminate the witness and hide the body.” Diana is almost certain that the body will be discovered sooner than later, if Smith doesn’t get caught in the act, that is. The police will arrive in an hour or two to bring Garner to court. If Smith doesn’t blow his cover before that…</p><p>Factoring Smith’s famed sloppiness into account, 47 decides that it’s too risky to stay passive. All it takes to fail the mission is one phone-call to the lawyer. He must be taken care of, which means he has to lure Garner away from him first. </p><p>It shouldn’t be that hard. Garner is already more than willing. All he needs is an invitation.</p><p>As 47 searches in his mind for tricks he picked up from romantic movies and books, he forms an easy enough plan: He’ll lead him to the bedroom first, make up some empty promises and excuse himself to “prepare”, then knock out the lawyer, hide the body, and stall for time. Davidson has annoyed Garner long enough that he likely won’t notice the lawyer’s absence. </p><p>“If you’re so goddamned concerned about my health, why don’t you get the fuck out of my face, Davidson? Cause you’re about to give me a fucking stroke.” A window of opportunity.</p><p>47 walks into Garner’s field of view. He’s facing away from him, feigning interest in the antiques on the bookshelf. Once he senses Garner’s eyes on him, he bends down to reach for a book on the lower shelf, deliberate in his posture which mimics a suggestive photo he once saw in a magazine.</p><p>“Sir I just want to guarantee you absolute safety-”</p><p>“If you want absolute safety, Mr. Garner. I suggest you retrieve to the master bedroom. It has explosive-proof doors and bullet-proof glass.” He keeps his voice low and husky, turns around and looks Garner straight in the eye. “And plenty of entertainment potential.” </p><p>The predatory hunger that flashes through Garner’s eyes sets off a few alarms in 47’s head. But the plan is already in motion. <i>It’s all under control.</i></p><p>“Well…If the professional says so.” Garner stands up, a grin plastered on his face. “Keep an eye on Sharon, will you? And don’t bother me unless it’s important.” Davidson wants to protest, but was met with a warning glare.</p><p>As they walk to the master bedroom, Garner slides his hand down 47’s lower back and pinched his ass. A bit too hard than normal, 47 suspects. Even though he has no other memory to compare it to, he’s pretty sure that it’s not supposed to feel painful.</p><p>Diana can’t help but feels anxious. She’s figured out what 47’s doing and absolutely does not like the idea of some filthy criminal feeling up her agent. But what raises more concern is 47’s sexual experience. 47’s psychological evaluation suggests that he’s very apathetic towards relationships (or people in general) and sexual contact. Diana herself has witnessed his asexual attitude on various occasions. His handsome features have garnered lots of flirting from other ICA personnel, to which he has always responded with polite refusal. While other agents are having casual sex like there’s no tomorrow (which is a very real possibility) and gossiping up a storm at the headquarter, 47 has never once taken part in it.</p><p>Now, she’s witnessing 47 use his sexuality to complete his mission. It’s almost surreal. </p><p>She wonders if 47 has any sexual experience at all. His actions seem rather…textbook, copied from “normal” people. Garner might be able to see through his performance if he is not busy getting his hands all over him. Diana cringes inwardly at the mental image. Deep down, she admits that her strictly professional concern is tainted by a bit of possessiveness: she chose 47, 47 is hers.</p><p>If anything goes wrong, she’s going to kill Soders in the most painful way possible. </p><p>On her monitor, the two men enter the master bedroom. </p><p>“Be careful, 47.” Diana knows that he can’t respond verbally. Nonetheless, she hears his soft baritone in her head.</p><p>“I will, Diana.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Desperate times call for desperate measures.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The curtains are half-drawn inside the bedroom, shielding the spacious room from the harsh midday sun. Wooden floor and vintage furnishing. At any other time, 47 would have loved to spend a lazy afternoon in a room like this, listening to the birds outside, watching the trees sway gently in the wind.</p><p>47 wonders, in his non-existent past, if he had ever spent such an afternoon with someone in a room like this, if he had anyone in his life before he lost his memory. </p><p>If he had, surely they would come looking for him, wouldn’t they?</p><p>When he’s out there in the field, blending in or sneaking around, his eyes sometimes linger on couples sharing a passionate kiss or a warm embrace. It’s at those moments that he can sense something inside that resembles feelings. A pang of loss and emptiness, to which he should have a certain emotional response yet his brain fails to comprehend what emotion even is. When he couldn’t busy himself with killing, cleaning his weapons, working out and becoming better at killing. When the world is quiet around him and he’s forced to confront his demons. He wonders if there’s something horribly wrong with him. If this is his only purpose here. If he’s even capable of anything else.</p><p>Touching lives, only by ending them. </p><p>He’s thought about leaving it all behind, staring at the ceiling fan at the dead of night. The ICA pays very well, and he’s already earned enough money to last a humble life somewhere remote. The only thing that’s keeping him from doing so, is Diana. Even though they’ve only ever met twice in person in the past seven months, he can recall her delicate features every time she speaks into his ears. Before they met, in a life without the calming voice of Diana guiding him, he was lost and alone, a leaf in the raging wind. The thought of losing Diana is unbearable. Secretly, 47 wishes that there is something more than just trust between them.</p><p>“Bourbon or gin?” A southern drawl snaps 47 back to reality. He finds himself alone with Garner in his master bedroom. The man is holding up two bottles.</p><p>Right. The plan.</p><p>Making an excuse to leave now would be too suspicious. He’s supposed to give him a taste, get him hooked, needy, and leave him aching for more, willing to wait. When he can get rid of the lawyer.</p><p>“…a man of few words, huh?” Garner turns away and starts pouring a glass of bourbon. “Y’know…Davidson is entirely convinced that you are here to kill me, since, well…it is the ICA’s stock-in-trade.” 47’s heart rate goes up a little.</p><p>“Now, tell me, Tobias. If you <i>were</i>…” The drink in hand, he steps closer. “How would you do it?”</p><p>Nothing suspicious about honesty, right?  </p><p>“Poison the drink. The most obvious. The one in your hand, when you’re not looking. Or…” 47 looks at the small whiskey glass on the nightstand. “Whiskey before bed. Help you sleep.” Garner lets out a small chuckle.</p><p>“Or just a bullet to the head.” He doesn’t mention hiding the body afterward. It might give him ideas if he realizes the lawyer’s disappearance.</p><p>“Well…” Garner edges into 47’s personal space. He stands only a few inches above the agent. But the way his frame blocks out the sunlight, casting a shadow that seems to engulf the smaller man, it makes 47 feel uncharacteristically vulnerable.</p><p>He holds the glass of bourbon to 47’s lips. “I’d better be cautious then.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t drink on the job, sir.”</p><p>“Your job is to keep me alive, right? So-” Garner’s dark brown eyes meet 47’s icy blues. “Taste the poison.”</p><p>Several heartbeats later, 47 tilts the glass slightly to his lips. He intended for a small sip, but the older man takes hold of his hand and tilts it all the way back. Garner watches him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. A single drop escapes the corner of the agent’s mouth. Garner runs his hand down the side of 47’s face, thumb skimming over his high cheekbones then resting on his thin but soft lips. He pushes down, feeling the soft tissue give away under pressure, pulling them slightly apart. He takes a deep breath.</p><p>The hunger has returned to his eyes, stronger than before.</p><p>“What else, huh?” He pushes both of his hands into the smaller man’s blazer and finds the Silverballers resting in their holsters. “Bullet to the head?” He pulls them free and holds them up, admiring their gleaming surface. “Classy.” He lets them fall to the ground. The agent seems displeased at that and opens his mouth to say something. But was soon silenced by the onslaught on his mouth.</p><p>With his right hand gripping the back of 47’s head, Garner holds him still in a ferocious kiss. All teeth and bites and messy. For a man his age, Garner is surprisingly strong. 47 grimaces as the older man bites down on his lower lip, drawing blood. It wasn’t a clumsy mistake it seems, as he proceeds to lick the open wound clean of its blood. Impatient, he rips open 47's dress shirt with a forceful tug, sending buttons flying. He snakes his hands up the younger man’s abdomen and chest, squeezing his pectoral muscles hard enough to leave bruises. </p><p>47 doesn’t find the rough treatment very arousing, if at all. It’s all brute force and chaos. It is the exact opposite of what he perceives to be good love-making (not that there’s any love involved here). Still, the agent prefers to go slow. His ways are gentle, elegant, and methodical. Being in a business that deals with the worst kind of brutality, he prides himself on causing the least amount of havoc and suffering. </p><p><i>Just need to endure a bit more.</i> Garner thrusts his tongue inside the agent’s mouth, hands traveling down his back. 47 starts counting down from thirty.</p><p>Diana had to take her eyes off the screen.</p><p>It feels wrong to be watching this. Even though 47 is the one manipulating the situation. She doesn’t feel like the plan is going the right way when a human trafficker is (and there’s no other word to describe it) molesting her agent in front of her eyes. She had to mute the sound as well. Faint, breathy pants. It’s all too raw, too exposed, too much like the thing that she dares not even think about. On her side monitor, she watches the lawyer disappears into the bathroom. Suddenly, her main monitor flashes bright red, accompanied by a terrible shrieking sound. An emergency.</p><p>“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Garner’s hands disappear down the back of his pants. <i>Nine, eight…</i></p><p>“47. Smith blew his cover.” 47 has never heard Diana this panicked, “Lawyer will be alerted <i>very</i> soon.” If he had time to swear, he would. His mind starts racing.</p><p>The sound of glass shattering caught Garner’s attention. They both look down. 47 has crushed the bourbon glass in his hand, blood now flows freely from his palm.</p><p>“Jesus.” Garner takes hold of his hand, “Got too excited, didn’t you?”</p><p>“My…apologies.” 47 pulls himself away, “I’ll go clean it up.”</p><p>Garner signs, reluctant to let him go, but yields at the thought of blood staining his clothes, “First-aid kit is in the bathroom. Cabinet.” </p><p>“Ok.” 47 steps aside but feels Garner shifts to follow him. <i>Give him a good reason.</i></p><p>“No-no, stay here.” 47 strokes Garner’s face and pecks him on the lips, eyes needy and pleading, “I’ll be right back. Stay.” </p><p>Garner stands right where he was as 47 hurries out of the room.</p><p>“Down the hallway by the stars. Third door left, in the bathroom.” Diana spoke with urgency, “He is on the phone right now.”</p><p>Of all the time for an emergency, it had to be when Davidson is on the fucking toilet. He took care of business as fast as humanly possible when he realized who was calling. Fucking ICA, he knew they’d pull some bullshit like this. Fuck, the bald fuck is gonna off his client, isn’t he? Fuck, he’s probably already dea-</p><p>As Davidson walks out the bathroom door, he suddenly loses his ability to breathe. Before he registered what was happening, he’s dragged back into the bathroom. After a few seconds of suffocation, the lawyer loses consciousness and slumps over the toilet. <i>Now just need to hide-</i></p><p>“47, wife and bodyguard coming up the stairs.” <i>Just his luck.</i> He grabs the lawyer’s ankle and starts dragging him towards the walk-in storage space. Halfway there, he hears the doorknob turn and the bathroom door starts to swing open. In a flash, 47 drops the man’s leg and dashes towards the entrance, slapping his hand on the door to stop it from opening further. He steps closer to block as much view into the bathroom as possible.</p><p>On the other side, Sharon was startled by the sudden movement. “Oh <i>Shit.</i> Uh-didn’t mean to…” She looks up and realizes who she’s looking at. She takes in the view and a disgusted scowl creeps onto her face. 47 is flushed, slightly out of breath. His lips are wet and a bit swollen, blood trickles down the small cut on his bottom lip. His ruined shirt open in the front with missing buttons, leaving his chest exposed as well as the newly formed bruises. To say that he looks disheveled is an understatement. </p><p>“Oh for fuck’s sake-can’t even use the bathroom without…” She shakes her head, “Walking in on his bullshit!”</p><p>47 breathes a sigh of relief. He recalls the floor plan of the safehouse. “There’s another one downstairs.”</p><p>She narrows her eyes, looking offended. “I fucking know that genius, this is <i>my</i> house. God-whatever. I hope you slip and crack your head open!” Sharon shouts past 47 to an imaginary Garner behind him, and storms off. Hank spares him a sympathetic look before hurrying after her. 47 can’t afford to dwell on what the look means.</p><p>The storage space is full. He lays the lawyer’s limp body in the bathtub and draws the curtains close. A temporary alternative. “Witness is down. Smith is being pursued by security.” There’s relief in Diana’s voice. She had anticipated Smith to botch his assassination attempt, but was hit with a nasty surprise when he failed to do something as simple as laying low. It would be a miracle if he is still employed after this. At least he completed the mission, whether he makes it out alive is irrelevant now. </p><p>“The police are on their way to Garner’s house. 47. Arriving in approximately 20 minutes.” The wife is unlikely to return to the bathroom (or go upstairs) in a while, the same goes for the bodyguard. 47 just needs to keep stalling. Diana feels her anxiety returning. From what she has witnessed during their time in the bedroom (as much as she could bear), it’s not hard to see that Garner prefers the dominant role, its implication making the handler feel nauseated. She has serious doubt that a human trafficker has any respect for sexual consent. Even though 47 is more than capable of defending himself against an old man, Diana fears that her agent is willing to go to any extent to secure the mission. </p><p>The handler side of her tries to reason that it’s not her place to judge what her agent does. It is his body and he has the right to wield it in any way he pleases. And that it doesn’t matter if a low-life criminal gets to run his hands down places on his body that she can only ever dream of reaching, that she shouldn’t feel a sharp pain in her chest when he whispers words not meant for her but sound so perfect in her ears. On a mission, they are a perfect pair, and Diana is not going to ruin it with selfish desires. </p><p>“I think Garner is getting impatient.” Her voice regains its usual seriousness, “He’s pacing around.”</p><p><i>Time to head back.</i> 47 tries to adjust his breathing as he approaches the master bedroom, but couldn’t quite shake the uneasiness clinging onto his mind.</p><p>As soon as he steps in, Garner was on him in an instant. </p><p>“Took you long enough.” The older man takes hold of 47’s left hand and starts pulling him towards the bed, but was perplexed by the wetness against his fingers. 47’s stomach drops at the realization that he has completely forgotten about the cut, being used to blocking out pain under stress. <i>Did I leave blood on the bathroom floor?</i> Garner holds his hand up and inspects it. The wound is shallow and fresh blood oozes sluggishly out the cut. He looks up into 47’s eyes.</p><p>“You didn’t…?” His brows furrow.</p><p>47’s breath hitches in his throat. “I couldn’t find it.” Plausible, but not convincing enough.</p><p>47 can see the cogwheels turning in Garner’s head, can see him playing back what happened in past few minutes, but this time looking through a rational filter, noticing subtle anomalies that just don’t feel right in his gut. The instinct of a seasoned criminal with years of experience in the treacherous underworld starts kicking in. His face hardens, a predator smelling blood in the air.</p><p>He looms over the agent, eyes turning cold and searching.</p><p>“Why did you want me to stay?”</p><p>For the first time in his seven-month career, 47 is at a loss for words. <i>Lie, or-</i></p><p>His racing thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Garner wraps his hand around his throat and shoves him back against the wall. “Now’s not the time to play dumb, Tobias.” His hold tightens, partially cutting off his airway.</p><p>“Why do you want me here?” Just say <i>something-</i></p><p>The intense moment is suddenly disturbed by a vibrating phone. Garner, caught off guard by the phone call, hesitates for a second before fetching his phone out of his pocket. A frightening revelation strikes 47’s mind. <i>If they can’t reach through the lawyer, Garner would be the next in line.</i> He flips the phone open. <i>But Davidson got the call. They wouldn’t need to. It could be nothing.</i></p><p>Maybe, maybe not.</p><p>He can’t risk it.</p><p>Before Garner could properly read what’s on the screen, 47 snatches the phone out of his hand and hangs it up.</p><p>Garner freezes in perplexity. It will be a split-second before his confusion turns into murderous rage. 47 doesn’t give him the chance to figure it out. He pulls their bodies closer than ever before, their lips barely touching.</p><p>He rolls his hip, grinding into Garner’s still half-hard member like a well-trained whore. Lips quivering and eyes unfocused, he lets out a breathless moan.</p><p>“Fuck me.”</p><p>Overwhelming need assaults Garner, waves of lust banishing every rational thought from his brain. He’s never felt a deeper desire than right now. The desire to sink inside of the agent as deep as he can force himself, to have the agent’s legs wrapped around his waist and his fingers digging helplessly into his back, to mark him and possess him and devour him.</p><p>
  <i>“Careful what you wish for, boy.”</i>
</p><p>On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, Diana forgets how to breathe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well...the rating is about to be bumped up to Explicit. </p><p>Thank you all who enjoy my story! Love you guys &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He had thought that pain was his only enemy, and all he had to do was clench his jaw and endure. He couldn’t be more wrong.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The only sexual encounter 47 has ever had (or can remember having) started off like any other clichéd one-night-stand story: woman meets man at hotel bar. It was a rare night where he allowed himself to indulge in his limited hobbies after a successful mission, trying out different kinds of alcohol being one of them. A well-dressed woman (her name already faded from his memory) strode over and bought him a drink. It didn’t take long for her to turn their friendly conversation in a less innocent direction. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve stuck to his usual tendency and turned down her offer. He would later attribute his rash decision to poorly managed intoxication and curiosity. But the fact that the woman was a redhead who bears some striking resemblances to Diana might have also been a significant reason why he ended up in her hotel room.</p><p>The sex wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. Not that he ran into any physical dysfunction or trouble with inexperience, far from it. She was thoroughly satisfied with the affair, if the way she writhed and moaned in pleasure, arching her back and meeting his thrusts was any indication. In spite of the fact that he was (as far as he knew) practically a virgin, he had met, if not exceeded, her expectation in skills – somehow. Finally confirming his sexual competency should have been a cause for celebration, had he not accidentally revealed a part of himself buried beneath his flawless, seemingly indestructible exterior, an ugly truth rearing its head at the least suspecting moments.</p><p>During the initial phase of exploration (which consisted of fumbling with each other’s clothes and testing boundaries), unsure of himself, he all but initiated some tentative kisses and light touches in non-intrusive areas. He very much enjoyed the tenderness of it, his slightly drunken state and the dim moonlight making the woman’s features appear more and more like those of Diana’s, the longing in her eyes ever so real, creating a hopeful illusion that he could almost believe in, that one day Diana could accept him with open arms, regardless of all the unspeakable things he has done to others, and others to him, despite how broken and damaged he knows he is.</p><p>For what felt like an eternity, he had held onto her like she would abandon him without a second thought, vanish without a trace, like everybody else from his past.</p><p>She didn’t. Looking back now, he wishes that she had. </p><p>He wishes that they had stayed like this until dawn, in quite whispers and slow caresses, losing himself in the comfort of human touch. So that he didn’t have to be confronted by the devastating truth and stayed in blissful ignorance. Once he’s let loose in the world for long enough, he had come to terms with who he is, and considered his lack of identity both a curse and a blessing. After that night, not knowing yourself seemed more and more like a blessing. </p><p>He can’t remember exactly what she did to put him under that horrible spell. Her skilled mouth nibbling at his ear, her soft hand stroking his member, it had all blended together in a confused haze. Courtesy of his amnestic brain, perhaps. It couldn’t have been deliberate, but at the moment, it felt like she had wormed her finger into his head and flipped a switch he didn’t know existed, triggering something within him. His body started to move on its own in a series of coordinated muscle reflexes too fast for his mind to comprehend, as if he had retrieved (or been forcefully banished) to the back seat, leaving his body on auto-pilot that was programmed by someone else, tapping into knowledge that he had no recollection of inquiring.</p><p>His mouth on her breasts, tongue swirling around her erect nipples. Fingers rubbing her clit, sliding down the inner lips and into her heat. His head between her splayed out legs, mouth hot and wet, the tip of his tongue flickering at just the right spot, dipping inside of her and lapping up her juices.</p><p>Lewd, obscene acts. Some of which he had never seen or heard of. All performed with skilled perfection.</p><p>He was more startled than surprised by this display of proficiency.</p><p>As his body moved with vigor, all he could do was blink rapidly, fighting to focus, to regain control. His movements were fluent and confident, but devoid of any motivation other than the sole purpose of bringing his bedmate to climax. As if all of these were merely a means to an end. And he, reduced to a reluctant observer, watched on with increasing horror as sounds around him faded away, his consciousness sinking into the abyss.</p><p>For a moment, he was certain he passed out. But instead of waking up in a cold sweat alone in his room, his eyes reopened to the view of her writhing against him, on her back and legs spread wide. Her lust-filled eyes gazed into his as he held onto her hip and thrust into her hard and fast, driving open-mouthed moans out of her lithe body. And then he finally saw it.</p><p>It had been so obvious. All the signs were there. The familiar sensation creeping down his spine as his brain shut off. The way his body reacted on the basis of muscle memory. His hands massaging her full breasts with the same level of control in strength as he would when applying a chokehold. The way he pumps his hips, hitting her sweet spot every time with the same level of precision as his bullet would penetrate a human’s skull from a mile away. Things he had done a million times before that he could do it again at the drop of a hat.</p><p>Knowledge that was burned into his subconscious, seared into his muscle memory, never to be taken out. Not even after he lost everything else. </p><p>The results of prior training.</p><p>His mind, not yet recovered from this shocking revelation, was immediately hit by another awful realization that, at some point, he had stopped feeling anything.</p><p>Maybe he was too out of it, too dazed. But try as he might, he couldn’t feel what he was doing, couldn’t feel the arousal stiffening his cock and quickening his pulse. There was a disconnect between his nerve endings and his brain, as if any signal of pleasure had run into a brick wall. As his body carried on with enthusiasm, while his head was completely disengaged, like he wasn’t even <i>there</i>. It was as though his soul had somehow slipped out of his body, leaving behind nothing more than an overly-responsive meat suit, trapped in repeated motion like a soldier carrying out his orders.</p><p>Ever since he stumbled out of that asylum in the Romanian mountains, he had been trying to understand what was wrong with him, to figure out exactly how far the damage goes, holding onto a slither of hope that he could be fixed. Wishful thinking, as it turned out. So many times, he had to adjust his perception of himself, thinking that he finally gets it. <i>This is it, now I know.</i> Only to realize that he hadn’t even come close to understanding at all, this night being no exception.</p><p>His first attempt at intimacy. And he had treated it with the same kind of cold detachment as he had when slitting throats or stabbing hearts. Emotionless and uncaring.</p><p>It was so much worse than he could have ever imagined. Whatever happened in that asylum, whatever atrocity was committed, it wasn’t enough that it stole away his memory, stripped him of his identity, robbed him of his humanity, and turned him into a tool for killing. No. It had to make sure that he would never be able to recover from it. His own mind was turned against himself, driving him away into isolation, incapable of emotions.</p><p>Incapable of feeling, or reciprocating sympathy, kindness, affection.</p><p>Love.</p><p>It dawned on him that he was beyond saving, the extent of the damage too great to be mended, that the missing pieces of himself weren’t lying just beyond his reach, but utterly destroyed.</p><p>A profound emptiness washed over him as he thought of Diana. The possibility that their - whatever it is that they’ve built up between them - will amount to nothing more than a common friendship, seemed more likely now. And it will end on the (inevitable) day when fate finally decides that he has cheated death too many times. And Diana will simply move on to her next agent.</p><p>He doesn’t (nor want to) remember what happened the rest of the night.</p><p>The next morning, the woman put on her wedding ring and kissed him goodbye. </p><p>He didn’t step out of his hotel room for a week. In the end, it was Diana that gave him a reason - a new contract, her voice bringing welcomed normalcy and stability back into his life. Finally, he pushed his burdens to the back of his mind and set professionalism and rationality in the forefront.</p><p>At least he knew that he is capable of sexual activities now. Exploiting a person’s every possible weakness is the core of his profession. Why not add sex into his ever-expanding arsenal as well. <i>He was trained for it after all.</i> He thought bitterly. It is just another weapon he could wield, nothing more. And if it the situation requires it, there will be no hesitation.</p><p>Nevertheless, 47 expected that it would be a long time before he has sex again, if ever. </p><p>What he didn’t expect, was for it to be with another man, and that it would break him in ways he didn’t know he could. </p><p>---</p><p>“Why do you have to get this ICA guy? I got a perfect guy right here! I know him, worked with him plenty of times, loyal, reliable. <i>And</i> he has years of experience.” As someone who has served as Robert Garner’s personal legal counselor for years, Davidson was starting to question his boss’s judgments. First the slip-up that led to his arrest, and now he’s inviting professional assassins right into his house. Maybe he’s finally losing it. “Most importantly, he’s not ICA. You hired me for my advice, and I’m telling you that they cannot be trusted. I’ve dealt with ICA before and-”</p><p>“What makes you think that I haven’t?” As much as Garner appreciated his lawyer’s concern, he had zero tolerance for people who forget their place. “I hired you to make decisions that I cannot make alone, and this is not one of them.”</p><p>“But, with all due respect sir, I fail to see the reasoning behind this. ICA has-”</p><p>“It’s not the ICA, it’s Soders.” Garner took a drag of his cigar, “There’s a difference.”</p><p>Erich Soders, the former ICA agent, right. “Mr. Garner you can’t…<i>really</i> think that he could be trusted?”</p><p>Garner drew a deep breath. “Careful there, partner. You’re pushing it.”</p><p>So it’s personal then. Still, Davidson needed assurance. Losing Garner means losing his job, and possibly his life, too. He pressed on.</p><p>“Just-sir, <i>please.</i> Give me one good reason why you want this…Mr. Rieper.” God, even the damned name is giving out a bad omen.</p><p>“I like his eyes.”</p><p>“…”</p><p>Realizing that he wasn’t going to get a serious answer, Davidson let out a heavy sigh. “Understood, sir. I’ll-” Garner hung up with a click. “-drop by just in case.” Davidson awkwardly dropped his phone. “…ok.”</p><p>Garner put out his cigar, watching the setting sun, and lit up another. “This fucking guy is gonna be the end of me.” Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure why he made this specific choice either. Soders had provided him with a list of twenty agents to choose from. Any agent that passed Soders’ test is more than qualified in his eyes. He could’ve picked any one of them and called it a day. But as he skimmed over the files, he stopped abruptly, caught by a pair of cold, deadly eyes. </p><p>He was the youngest of the bunch, with the least experience, yet somehow, he looked the most capable for the job. A stern face, pale skin, clean-shaven. Rare for a man in his twenties to be bald, but it complemented his overall look. Garner wouldn’t say that the man was exactly his type, but he definitely wouldn’t mind adding him to the countless sexual conquests under his belt either. As he studied his features closer, he couldn’t help but be drawn to those depths of blue, the secrets lurking underneath. </p><p>Under every agent’s alias is a brief description of their best quality, written by Soders. The one under Tobias Rieper was exceptionally short.</p><p>
  <i>A man of many talents.</i>
</p><p>“Many talents, huh?” An intrigued smile. “We’ll see about that.”</p><p>---</p><p>“Fuck me.” </p><p>As soon as the words left his mouth, 47 knew that he had passed the point of no return. Even though it was reassuring to see the suspicion in Garner’s eyes dissipate in an instant, 47 found the immense lust that replaced it even more concerning, for it promised something that he wasn’t sure how to deal with.</p><p>“Careful what you wish for, boy.” <i>Is that a threat? Why would-</i></p><p>47 didn’t have a chance to finish that thought as Garner bursts into action, crushing his lips onto 47’s like a man possessed. He pushes him up the wall, one hand still on his throat. 47’s head bounced off the hard surface, temporary dizziness making the phone slip from his fingers and fall to the ground. </p><p>If their previous kiss was rough and messy, this one is just downright intrusive and uncomfortable. Garner seems keen on exploring every inch inside 47’s mouth. His tongue slides across every available surface while his other hand holds his jaw open, a thin line of saliva dripping down his chin. The tight hold on his throat and Garner’s mouth devouring his makes breathing a bit difficult, and the fact that Garner tastes like strong tobacco isn’t helping. After what felt like a lot longer, Garner finally pulls away. Both men were panting heavily, the younger for air and older in growing arousal.</p><p>Garner finally takes his hand off of his throat, he spends a second to take in the view. His handiwork has clearly taken a toll on the agent’s composure, his hard exterior cracking, but not nearly enough. He’s going to revel in tearing them all down, seeing the man become undone beneath him. Garner excites at the thought and proceeds to shed the younger man of his blazer and shirt. Lacking patience, he grabbed both layers of clothing and stripped them off his shoulders with messy tugs, leaving them tangled together around 47’s arms. At the sight of more exposed skin, a tad bit paler than his face, Garner wastes no time before sinking his teeth into the soft surface. While he doesn’t puncture the skin, he makes sure to leave it red and throbbing. His hands grip tightly around 47’s upper arm, preventing him from squirming away. </p><p>The chilling air hitting his bare skin sobers 47 up a bit from his dazed state. His mind has been playing catch-up ever since he stepped back into the room, hit by one emergency after the other. Trying to think straight while someone is biting into your collarbone isn’t ideal, but 47 would have to make do. </p><p>It’s really happening now. There is no way around it. They are going to have sex. He hadn’t expected things to escalate this quickly, but he only has himself to blame. <i>I asked him to, after all.</i> Admittedly, decisions born out of desperation are rarely perfect. But this one has to be the dumbest one he’s ever made in his career. All he can do now is adjust. Assess the situation and plan the next move. It’s what he does best, but right now his mind is at a complete loss. </p><p>One of the few things that he’s (fairly) certain about himself is that he’s not gay. Maybe it’s due to a lack of experimentation, but he has never found men sexually attractive, and never really bothered to learn the mechanism of gay sex, nor seen it in action. His knowledge goes as far as bits and pieces of vague descriptions. To put it frankly, he doesn’t have a clue how this is supposed to go down.</p><p>As much as he hated how his body reacted the last time he had sex, he would genuinely appreciate it if his body takes over again. At least then he wouldn’t need to think about what he’s doing, about what he’s allowing to happen. He wouldn’t put anything past those people at the asylum. They trained him how to pleasure a woman, why not a man as well. But so far, he remains in control of his body, frozen in inaction. No hidden switch in his head this time, instead of relief he felt increasing panic.</p><p>47 steadies his breathing. He’s not stupid. He can put two and two together. There’s only one orifice down there, it isn’t hard to figure out what goes in where. As far as his reaction goes, he just needs to play the feminine role, right? How hard can that be? </p><p>Garner suddenly takes his nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue, and bites down on the sensitive nub.</p><p>47’s breath hitches, instinctively trying to suppress the involuntary groan. But he’s supposed to keep up the act, give him the reaction he wants, and it will soon be over.</p><p>Garner bites down again, harder this time. 47 corrects himself and lets out a drawn-out moan. He did his best to make it sound genuine. But it sounded so alien to his ears that he feared he did it completely wrong. Luckily, the older man seems to be encouraged by it and continues his assault on his chest with more vigor.</p><p>“You haven’t made much noise today, boy.” Garner smiles up at him, teeth grazing his swollen nipple. “Time to change that.” His hand comes up to his other nipple, rolling the nub under his fingers before twisting it. </p><p>“You like that?” He gives it a hard pull. </p><p><i>Not really, no.</i> It’s more pain than pleasure, but 47 makes a good show of liking it anyway – breathy moans and surprised gasps falling out of his slightly trembling lips.</p><p>“Fuck-” Garner’s mouth is on his neck, hand still abusing his nipple. He leans in closer, nudging 47’s legs apart. He loosens his other hand from 47’s arm, and thrusts two fingers inside the younger man’s mouth. “Make them pretty noises for me, boy.”</p><p>47, very much disgusted by the intrusion, moans louder, trying to mask his discomfort.</p><p>“You’re a needy little bitch, aren’t you?” Garner stirs his fingers around his tongue, seemingly gathering saliva. At some point, he dips them in a bit too deep and triggers a gag reflex. He looks into 47’s eyes, now a bit watery from the treatment, unapologetic.</p><p>“You want it?” Garner growls in a rough voice, fingers still partially inside his mouth, eyes eagerly awaiting a response. “Hmm?”</p><p>The older man is looking at him as if he’s supposed to know what “it” is, which 47 absolutely doesn’t. After a moment of hesitation, he nods his head.</p><p>In a flash, Garner reaches down and undoes the agent’s belt. With his fingers still in his mouth, he opens the fly and yanks his trousers down his hip, along with his underwear. Gravity does the rest as they slide down the agent’s legs, pooling around his ankles.</p><p>Not prepared for being exposed so completely, 47 instinctively tries to close his legs, catching himself midway. But the motion was still noticeable.</p><p>Garner smirks in amusement. “Ain’t you cute acting like a school girl on prom night.” 47 grimaces at the ridiculous remark. The older man taps on his inner thigh and whispers. </p><p>“Spread ‘em.” 47 feels his face heat up in embarrassment. <i>Just go through with it.</i></p><p>As he does what he was told, he realizes that his cock still hangs limp between his thighs, clearly contradictory to his performance. His brain scrambles for an excuse.</p><p>But Garner doesn’t react to it. He pulls his saliva-covered fingers from 47’s mouth and reaches down. Instead of going for his cock, he bypasses it and pushes his hand back up between his thighs. 47 feels something nudge against his opening.</p><p>
  <i>Oh.</i>
</p><p>“Gon’ make you scream, boy.”</p><p>
  <i>No, wait-</i>
</p><p>With a forceful thrust, Garner’s middle finger breaches the ring of muscle, pushing its way deep into the tight opening. 47’s whole body jerks at the searing pain. Before he could adjust, the older man wiggles his poorly lubricated finger inside and starts thrusting it in and out at a rapid pace. 47 screws his eyes shut, choking back the harsh groans in his throat. </p><p>Pain is nothing new to 47. After his escape from the asylum, it didn’t take long for trouble to find him. Before the Agency, he had worked for dangerous men and against even more dangerous foes. He had taken on missions that were handled with much less professionalism and care. He had faced gang members, drug lords, mob bosses, corrupt cops. He had been beaten up, stabbed, shot, burned, drugged, tortured, and he had survived them all.</p><p>This is just a different kind of pain, isn’t it? Just another day where he has to grit his teeth and pull through.</p><p>There’s a persistent, sinking feeling in his stomach, warning him that this will hurt in a way that nothing had ever hurt him before. That this is something irreversible which only grows as time passes. That this is a kind of hurt that will haunt him for days, months, or even years to come.</p><p>47 shoves those thoughts away. It’s no different. It shouldn’t bother him this much. It’ll be over soon. <i>I’ll survive. It’s no big deal.</i></p><p>“Haven’t been taken for a ride in a while, have you?” Garner says cheerfully. “Tight as a fucking virgin.” Struggling to find his voice, 47 can only shake his head. After a few more thrusts, Garner adds a second finger way too fast, and continues to fuck into the young man. His other hand is on 47’s throat again, not restraining air but keeping his face up for him to see. 47’s eyes are still squeezed shut. He’s biting his lower lip hard enough to break the skin, blood trickling down his chin. A thin layer of sweat forms on his skin. Garner leans in and nibbles at his ear.</p><p>“That’s it.” He pushes in deep and scissors his fingers. 47 damn near bites through his bottom lip, still he couldn’t contain the pained groan from escaping. It hurt so fucking much that he’s sure something was torn up inside. Garner strokes his cheek as if to comfort him.</p><p>“C’mon, sweetheart. Stop being such a tease.” Garner purrs into 47’s ear, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He pulls out his fingers entirely for a brief moment, only to plunge right back in with three. It forces a startled, compressed noise from 47’s throat, the amount of hurt clear in his voice. The older man pays no mind to it. All his attention is focused on forcing his fingers deeper than ever before, making short and shallow thrusts and sinking in further each time, all the while muttering a string of filthy remarks into his head.</p><p><i>You know you want it. You like that, don’t you? Take it. So fucking tight. That’s right. Don’t fight it. Yeah.</i> </p><p>47 is frozen in place, fearing that one small movement will cause waves of renewed pain to emerge. If he wasn’t damaged before, he’s sure he is now. He fights back tears that threaten to escape his eyes as white-hot agony radiates from his lower half, digging his nails into the wall behind.</p><p><i>It’s just pain. It’s just pain.</i> </p><p>Garner runs his hand down the side of 47’s jaw, fingers trailing a circle just below his ear. His action mimicking that of a gentle lover, comforting touch and lingering strokes and whispers of how good he is and how much he’s going to enjoy it. A mockery of gentleness, of course, as his other hand continues its assault with vicious brutality, each violent thrust sending a jolt of pain up his spine.</p><p>Among all the chaos, 47 is trying his damnest to focus on anything else other than what’s going on right now, blocking out the crude whispers, the heavy pants, the wet noises, the throbbing pain, the shame that’s boiling in his gut. As a man who prides himself on his extraordinary senses, he really hopes that he could miraculously shut them all down. It’s not impossible, he had managed it once before in the face of torture. Letting his mind drift into nothingness as he put up a wall around his psyche, shielding out the unbearable pain. It’s meant to be a last resort when there’s no way of escape, since it basically means losing yourself inside your own mind and leaving your body to be ravaged. Still, he finds it the preferable option.</p><p>47 steadies his breathing and forces his body to go lax. His vision is blurry from the tears, but he manages to fix his gaze on a weird shape on the wall. He focuses on it, the pained expression slowly drains from his face, leaving behind a vacant stare.</p><p>Sensing the younger man’s lack of reaction, Garner angles his fingers slightly and jabs into a particular spot inside the agent.</p><p>Whatever little tranquility he had conjured up, vanishes in an instant as a shockwave of pleasure wrecks through 47’s body, jerking him back into reality. He lets out a surprised yelp, dazed and confused.</p><p>
  <i>W-wha-</i>
</p><p>“What was <i>that?</i>” Stunned by the unusual sensation, he accidentally speaks his thoughts out loud.</p><p>“Aw sugar, playing dumb again?”</p><p>“What? I-”</p><p>Garner jabs into that spot again, putting more force behind it. 47 sees sparks and loses control of his vocal cord, a loud groan tearing out of his throat.</p><p>Pleased by the sounds, Garner resumes pumping his fingers, grinding into that spot every now and then unexpectedly, making the young man cry out in labored gasps.</p><p>47 doesn’t know what to do, his brain ceases to function every time Garner hits the spot and sends blinding pleasure crushing through. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know how to react to it. He doesn’t even know what’s happening anymore. </p><p>He had thought that pain was his only enemy, and all he had to do was clench his jaw and endure. He couldn’t be more wrong.</p><p>“We’re just getting started, baby.”</p><p>He realizes in horror that this is just the beginning of his torment.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This ahhhh....got a lot darker than I intended...writing fanfic in the middle of the night is a spiral-down insanity.<br/>But in like a good kinda way, I suppose.</p><p>Thank you all so much for sticking around! I'd love to read your comments and your thoughts~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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